


Echoes

by blueinkblot



Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy (2017), The Mummy Returns (2001)
Genre: F/F, F/M, I promise it will make sense, Modern Day, Reincarnation, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-07-11 17:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueinkblot/pseuds/blueinkblot
Summary: You meet Milana at a club in London. After a few dates, you two become girlfriends. But it's when Milana reveals she can do magic and your friends in a group known as the Medjai recognize her that things get weird.





	1. Chapter 1

London   
Copy-pasting the bibliography into your paper, you turn in your assignment and watch the green banner appear at the top of the webpage.  
You close your laptop and change into your favorite “going-out” outfit. Giving a final sigh of relief, you throw a few things into a purse and are out of your apartment quickly.  
Not half an hour later you find your shoulders dropping as you dance to the thumping bass in your favorite nearby club.  
You crash back into somebody and whirl around to see who it was. Another woman, her long, straight dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, holds out her hands and met your eyes with similarly wide ones.  
“I’m so sorry,” you both blurt at the same time.  
“It was my fault,” you both try again.  
“Have we met?” she yells to you, and you wade closer through the crowd, placing a hand on her upper arm to anchor yourself to her against the shifting bodies.  
“No, I think I’d remember a face like yours,” you answer, leaning to speak into her ear. “Are you a model?”  
She laughs and dances closer to you. You’re almost face-to-face at this point. “I’m a linguistics student,” she says into your ear. “You?”  
“History and photography,” you answer. “Where do you go?”  
She names your university, which you confirm excitedly. After a moment of not talking, she takes your hands and tugs them back and forth in a mock impression of dancing. You laugh at her antics and faux-dance along with her.  
Releasing one of your hands, she pulls you towards the edge of the crowd near the bathrooms. Quickly she turns and loops your arms around her so that she’s pressed against you with your hands near her hips. She grinds against you and you feel nearly breathless as you feel yourself heat up.  
“You know, I never got your name,” you murmur into her ear, and she turns your head to meet your gaze.  
“I’m Milana.”  
“(y/n).”  
You pull your hands out of hers and place them on the front side of her hips.  
“Would it be too forward of me to kiss you?” you murmur in her ear.  
“No,” she answers, tone wary, “but I’m not - oh.”  
You press your lips to the curve of where her neck meets her shoulders.  
After a moment she whirls around and slams you against the nearby wall. One hand grasps your chin as she presses her lips against yours, and you feel her other hand run over your ass as her lips move against yours. She lifts your leg by your knee and slots her hips against yours. The hand holding your face fell to hold you by the small of your back. Her kisses grew longer and longer until both of you had to pull away to catch your breath.  
“I live just down the street,” you tell her. “Do you wanna take it back to my place?”  
Milana licks her lips and nods, giving you a smile. You take her hand and pull her from the club into the night.  
As soon as your apartment door was closed, her hands were on you, pulling your top off and quickly undoing your bottoms.  
She pauses for a moment and looks up at you. “I’m sorry, I never asked - you do want this, right?”  
“Yes, please,” you say through laughter, and you help her rid herself of her clothing. Once your clothing has been sufficiently tossed about the room, you lead her by the hand to your bedroom.

***

The next morning you woke up to see a head of dark hair splayed out over the other pillow. You feel a warm glow start in your chest, but startle as Milana rolls over.  
“Sorry, did I wake you?”  
“No, I’ve been awake for a while.” She moves closer to you, and you reach out to run your fingers through her hair.  
“It’s nice to see you’re still here,” you tell her. “Normally, my nighttime partner is gone by the time I wake up.”  
“You’re lucky I have a tendency to sleep in,” she says, running a hand down your cheek. You feel the butterflies in your stomach flutter.  
“Damn straight.”  
Milana sits up and you pull her back to the bed. “Okay, I know you said you weren’t a model, but would you let me take pictures of you? You look positively angelic.”  
“As long as I’m not showing too much off.” She winks at you and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat.  
She slides back under the sheets as you get your camera and change lenses for a short lens.  
“Do you want me to pose, or…?” Milana asks, looking over at you.  
“Just the way you are,” you tell her as you look up from your camera. “You’re perfect.”  
You spent an hour shooting pictures of her, adjusting as the light shifted, and then you both got dressed once you decided you were done.  
“Your eye for detail is amazing,” she says, flicking through the photos you’d shot. “I didn’t know my hair could go that color.”  
“Well, now you know,” you reply as you wriggle into your shirt.  
The silence was split by your stomach growling.  
“Would you like to get breakfast?” you ask. “I - I know this place on the corner - not too far from the club, actually - ”  
She places a hand over yours and smiles. “Let’s go.”  
Milana got to the door before looking down at herself. “Do you have a shirt I could borrow?”  
You bite back a laugh. “Yeah, hang on.”  
You grab your favorite Joan Jett shirt and exit to the living room. “Milana,” you say, and toss the shirt to her.  
She turns just in time for it to hit her in the face, and you laugh at the surprised noise she makes in response. She slips out of the black sequined top she wore the night previous and into your shirt.  
“How the _hell_ do you make a t-shirt look _that_ good?” you ask.  
“The world may never know,” she answers with a sly smile, and exits out the door. You’re in such a rush to follow her that you almost forget your keys.  
Before you could leave the apartment building - no, make that your hallway - her hands are on you and she’s kissing you. Softly, this time, and you rest your forehead against hers when she pulls away.  
“I’m so glad I went home with you,” she murmurs, her nose nearly touching yours. The fact that you can feel her breath makes you lightheaded.  
“I’m so glad I invited you home with me,” you answer, rubbing a thumb against her jaw. You place a quick kiss on her lips before stepping past her and pulling her along by your interlaced fingers. “Let’s go, or we’re never going to eat.”  
When the two of you get to the shop Milana orders two doppio espressos and an almond croissant.   
“It’s not as much as I usually get,” she says through laughter at your shocked expression.  
“Then how many do you _usually_ get?!”  
“Five.” She seems almost apologetic, but she’s trying not to smile at how confused you are. “Five _single_ shots, that is. I get six if I’m having a bad day.”  
She takes the two small cups that the barista hands her.  
“Six?!” you cry. “I can barely drink _three_ , and that makes me jittery for like two hours!” You eye her carefully. “You sound like my grandfather - apparently, he loved his coffee and was also a notorious adrenaline junkie. Are _you_ an adrenaline junkie?”  
She thanks the waiter who brings her her croissant. “I’m a _linguistics_ student - what makes you think I’m an adrenaline junkie? Far from it, in fact.”  
You turn a meaningful glare at her espresso cups. She laughs at you as the barista behind the counter calls your order.  
“A love for caffeine does not make me an _adrenaline junkie_ , (y/n),” she tells you once you’re sitting at the table again. “It means I really fucking love coffee.”  
“Alright, _fine_ , sure, whatever floats your goat.”  
“Did you just - floats your _goat_?”  
“Yes.”  
She downs one of her espressos.  
“What classes are you taking?”  
She looks up at you. “A couple of core linguistics classes, an Arabic class, and an African history class.”  
You smile wryly at her. “Hey, you know if you need help with that last class, just ask.”  
She leans towards you, chin on her hand. “Yeah, I can just text you if I need.”  
The two of you stare at each other for a moment, then scramble to pull out your phones.  
“I can’t believe we didn’t exchange numbers.”  
“I was _sure_ we did,” you answer, “I just wasn’t sure when.”  
You swap phones and enter your information. When you get your phone back, you see that she’s entered a kissy face next to her name along with a gorgeous selfie as a profile picture.  
“Hey, I need a picture of you,” she says, already raising her phone. You pose for her with your eyes closed and your head in your hands.  
“Cute,” she says after you hear the shutter noise. “Hey, there’s a new exhibit at the Louvre on some Japanese art - would you go with me this weekend?”  
It takes you a moment to fully comprehend what she asked you, and then you nod quickly. “Yes, absolutely!”


	2. Chapter 2

ELSEWHERE  
Nick finished chanting a spell that, somehow, he instinctively _knew_. In front of him, a black doorway outlined in glowing hieroglyphics appeared out of nowhere, and from inside his mind the Lord of the Desert urged him through it.  
Ahead of him sat a gigantic man dressed in traditional pharaoh dress holding the crook and flail, and he seemed to be the only color in the world. The gold of his jewelry, the red and white of his crown, and the aquamarine shade of his skin glowed against the otherwise monochromatic world.  
MY BROTHER OSIRIS, Set said to Nick.  
Just as Nick went to speak to Osiris, he spoke first.  
_That’s a new form, Brother._  
When Nick spoke, it wasn’t with his voice. It was hissing and distorted, but most certainly not his.  
_I thought it was time for a change_ , Set responded. _It’s been a few decades since we gained power when the mortals began unwrapping mummies._  
That was almost two centuries ago, Nick thought at the god.  
YES.  
Osiris scoffed. _Utter sacrilege._ He eyed Nick closely. _What brings you to the afterlife?_  
This is the afterlife?  
YES. HUSH.  
_What else? Revenge._  
Osiris looked mildly amused, but as if he were attempting not to be. _Whatever it is, I don’t want to know._  
He waved his hand and another doorway opened, this one releasing the sounds of screams.  
_Thank you, Brother_ , Set smirked, waltzing through the doorway.

Despite Nick still having no idea what was going on, he understood that they were looking for someone.  
YOU REMEMBER AHMANET, YES?  
Vaguely.  
IT IS HER WE SEEK.  
A wave of realization went through Nick. Upon first bonding with Set, the god had shown him a vision of Ahmanet pledging her soul to Set in return for powers in order to keep the throne. And, upon her failure to collect her family’s souls and Set’s bonding with Nick, it was time for the debt to be paid. However, since Ahmanet tearing through London had caused such a stir, they had waited several years for investigations and mummy fever to die down. It would seem that using Set’s powers caused some unavoidable physical changes, namely the tattooing appearing on one’s skin and the double pupils, and Set seemed to doubt that “mortals”, as he called them, would forget such oddities in such a short period of time.  
THERE IS NO DOUBT IN ME THAT MY BROTHER HAS PUT HER WITH OTHER UNFAITHFUL AND UNWORTHY ROYALS, Set told him. WE WILL FIND HER AND MAKE HER AN EXAMPLE TO ALL OTHERS WHO SHOULD THINK TO FOLLOW HER EXAMPLE. ENSURE THAT OTHERS KNOW TO TRIFLE NOT WITH MY POWER.  
Okay, Nick thought back, but you should know that pharaohs no longer rule in Egypt. They, uh, they’re a republic, or something.   
Set seemed confused at this. THEY STILL HAVE RULERS, DO THEY NOT?  
I guess so.  
I WILL HAUNT THEIR DREAMS TO ENSURE THEY DO NOT INCUR MY WRATH.  
Set continued to drive him along with purpose and an instilled sense of vengeance, only stopping at a chasm along the way. Inside it, a man dressed in priest’s clothing hung from the edge, and half-dissolved mummies climbed up to reach for him.  
_Help me, please_ , said the priest.  
_How do I know you won’t stab me?_ asked the god.  
Though he was struggling and obviously afraid, the priest had it in him to chuckle at this. _You truly think I have the power to stab you in the back, Lord Set? You flatter me._  
Both Nick and Set snorted. _What would you do once free?_  
Hatred filled Imhotep’s gaze. _I seek vengeance. My lover left me to rot._  
Without a further word, Nick lifted his hand and felt the surge of Set’s power within him as the priest rose from the chasm.  
_It seems we have a common goal, then_ , the god spoke, pinning Imhotep down with his gaze. _I am searching for one Princess Ahmanet. Is there any chance that you know where she might be?_  
The priest shook his head.  
Set let out a long sigh. _And what of your lover?_  
Imhotep cast a short spell. _I cannot seem to locate her either._  
Nick looked up towards what would have been the ceiling of the room, except that it too seemed to be infinitely far away.  
_To the land of the living, then_ , Set declared. He turned to Imhotep and cast a spell over him.  
“What did you do to me?” the priest asked, and Nick snapped to attention as he realized that he could understand him.  
“I gave you speech,” Set said through Nick. “In this time, people do not speak Egyptian. They speak the language of the Britons - English. You can hear what others say, and you can speak to them in the same language.”  
Imhotep dipped his head. “Thank you, Lord Set.”  
“Now,” Set began, casting another spell, “let us go.”


	3. Chapter 3

After that, time seemed to fly until you were standing inside the famed museum with Milana beside you. Getting there hadn’t been hard - get to Kent from London, take the Chunnel from Kent to Coquelles, and then travel into Paris.  
“Can you believe this?” Milana murmurs to you, slipping her hand into yours. “All this art!”   
“All I can see is the art next to me,” you say, and she bumps you with her shoulder.  
“Okay, that was cheesy. Cheesy, but not entirely unforgivable.”  
“Yes! I have a chance!”  
She snickers at you, and you move into another room.   
It’s three rooms later as the two of you are trying to recreate the pose of a couple in a portrait (to the amusement of the other patrons in the room) when Milana doubles over in pain, clutching her head.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Agh, headache just bitchslapped me into next week,” she says as you guide her to a bench. “We’re still in the Louvre, right?”  
“As far as I know. Could be a parallel dimension.”  
She meets your eyes and snorts, then inhales a breath through her teeth and clutches her head again.  
“Do you need me to take you to find a help desk?” you ask her in a quiet voice.  
“No, I - _ugh_.”  
It was at least another 45 seconds before she sat up again. Her eyes wide and face pallid, she looks at you.  
“We need to go somewhere else. I - I have to tell you what just happened.”  
You sling an arm around her waist and run your fingers through your hair as you help her towards the entrance of the museum. A few of the other patrons - the ones who had been watching the two of you pose - rush over to ask if you need help. You smile at them weekly and tell them Milana just needs to be outside.  
Once the two of you get outside, the sky is overcast and a light breeze blew through the plaza.  
“Feeling any better?”  
“Slightly.” Milana tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “Look, about what happened inside - ”  
“Is it related to your - ” You drop your volume. “ - _magic_?”  
She looks like she’s going to nod her head, then tilts it back and forth. “I think so. I - I don’t know.”  
She swallows hard. “I was somewhere warm, but it was nighttime, so I don’t quite know where I was. I was kneeling, and chanting in a different language - it was something I didn’t recognize, so it’s probably some sort of dead language, maybe an ancient one. I felt something in my hands, and I looked down to see a long, black dagger in my hands. And - and there was a ruby at the end of it. I remember looking up and seeing a smoky figure before there was a sharp pain in my stomach.”  
She looks up at you, eyes teary.  
“Milana,” you murmur, pulling her into a hug. “I - that sucks, I’m sorry.”  
She swallows hard and rubs her hands over her face, groaning.  
“You want me to take you home?”   
“Please,” she said, taking your hand and standing. The two of you took the Tube back to her stop, where you gave her a brief kiss and headed back towards your apartment.

***

Nick found the signature of Ahmanet’s magic, and only stopped at an apartment door. He held out his hand and heard the click of tumblers and then the thunk of the bolt drawing back.  
Nick turned the doorknob and walked into a pedestrian-looking apartment. He began to scan around for clues to the modern identity of Ahmanet’s reincarnation.  
Imhotep, however, seemed to be leaning over the person’s very cluttered desk. Papers covered the entire surface of the desk, and the priest seemed to be fixated on one.  
“You said you knew my story,” he said, turning to meet Nick’s gaze. “What was the name of the man who kept trying to force me back into the sarcophagus?”  
“O’Connell,” Nick said, “Richard O’Connell.”  
“And the woman?” Imhotep looked back to the paper as Nick came over beside him.  
“Evelyn Carnahan, then Evelyn O’Connell.”  
“Here.” Imhotep pointed at the paper. “That’s them, and their son Alexander.”  
He dragged his finger down to a circled name on the paper. “(y/n) (l/n).”  
Nick looked around. “That seems to be the tenant here.”  
Imhotep sneered at the paper. “Just when I thought I was done dealing with them… their descendent returns to haunt me.”  
Nick looked around. “It seems, based on the small amount of magic here, either Ahmanet is unaware of her magic or (y/n) is not her reincarnation.”

 

***

You stood up from your coffee meeting with Amir, one of your friends and a curator at the museum that you usually hung out at. With a hug, you stood up and walked home.  
Just before you unlocked your apartment door you heard voices.  
“In fact, I think she’s outside.”  
Your eyes widened before the door swung open with your keys in the lock.  
Two men stood in your apartment, and you were pulled in before you could think to turn and run.  
The one holding his hands out towards you barked an order at you in a language you didn’t understand.  
“I don’t know! I can’t understand you!” you cried, hunching towards the ground.  
“She sounds like she’s telling the truth,” the other man said. “How well did you know your great-grandparents?”  
“What?”  
You looked up at the other man.  
“I didn’t,” you said. “The ones who lived longest died 30 years before I was born.”  
“Your grandfather?”  
“Which one?”  
“Alexander O’Connell.”  
“Grandpa Alex,” you breathed. “He told a lot of fantastic stories - I could never tell if they were true or not.”  
“Did he ever say anything about magic?” the man asked. “Or reincarnation?”  
“It sounds like you want something from me,” you answered. “Or - okay, okay!”  
The second man had threatened you again.  
“It seems like your friend here knows more about magic than I do,” you said. “You sure you’re asking the right person?”  
_Definitely the right person_ , Imhotep said to Set in Ancient Egyptian. _Though I could not understand her ancestors, their behavior is exactly the same_.  
The god said nothing but smirked.  
“You’re coming with us,” Nick said, casting a spell. Imhotep watched as the spell pulled your hands behind your back and forced you to your knees.  
You struggled hard and managed to free one of your hands. You lunged for the man who was trying to restrain you, but he stepped back, sneered, and then began chanting again.  
“Master - ” Imhotep said, and Nick’s eyes flicked to him for a second. This gap allowed the magic to dip, and you jumped to your feet, punching Nick in the face. He cried out and stumbled back, allowing you to grab your keys and run from the apartment building.  
Unlocking your phone, you opened your recent calls and dialed Amir.  
“Amir? Yeah, hey, it’s me. Can I meet you at the museum? I’m being followed by… uh, something weird.”  
He promised you that he’d meet you at the doors, and you only stopped checking over your shoulder about halfway between your apartment and the museum.  
Amir’s hands were in his pockets when he met you in the front hall of the museum.   
“What’s going on?” he asked under his breath, leaning his head in towards yours.  
You looked around, your breath still coming out in pants. “Not here,” you said. “Let’s go to the basement.”  
Amir watched you as the two of you rode in the elevator in silence.   
“Okay,” you said as soon as you entered the basement, “so I just got home after seeing you, and I’d just put my keys in my lock when..”  
You told him about the intruders and their oddly specific questions, and he summoned a sky blue ball of energy. He moved it around you, and you felt a light pressure as he searched you for magic.  
A gold glow appeared around your wrists and behind you. “Oh, yeah, that’s old magic if I’ve seen it,” he murmured. “And not like any school of magic I’ve ever heard of, either.”  
“You wanna brain scan me?” you asked.  
Amir laughed. “I can brain scan you, yeah,” he said. “Here, come into the main room and we’ll put you on the bed.”  
“Oooh, I finally get to be on the bed,” you said. “Kinky.”  
Amir let out a snort and smacked his hand to his face. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that.”  
“My girlfriend wouldn’t either.”  
Amir whirled on you. “ _Girlfriend_?”  
“It’s new. I get this feeling she’s going to be involved if these people keep following me around.”  
He flipped his hand at you. “Get on the bed.”  
You waggled your eyebrows at him.  
“Stop that, you.”  
You laid down and wiggled on the bed so your head sat on the headrest.  
“Okay. I know you know how this goes, so just… take a nap.”  
You closed your eyes and you drifted off.


End file.
